The Perfect Man
by SuzieQuaKes
Summary: -AU- With finding a list from six years ago, of a hundred qualities that she wanted in a boyfriend, May is shocked to find that she had finally found one "perfect" man. There's just one thing wrong with the picture. He's gay. Advanceshipping.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

I love this story. It's one of the most challenging stories to write, but I want to give myself that challenge.

Full Summary -

Life couldn't get better for twenty-something May Maple who has just lost her job, her apartment and her boyfriend. When her friend Emily suggests her to move into a "shared" apartment, she never would have guessed that she would be sharing it with four beautiful men. Oh—correction: four beautiful _gay_ men. But when May finds a list that she had made twelve years ago on qualities that she wanted in the "perfect" boyfriend—she finds herself amazed that she finally found one man that fitted in. There's just one thing wrong with that picture. _He's gay_.

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**The Perfect Man**

_SuzieQuaKes-UnreachableRomance_

posted: 3/12/10

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**O N E **

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"Life fucking _sucks!_"

I groaned in a hoarse voice and held up my pointer finger to the barman. The lanky figure who was wiping glasses with a piece of white towel pocketed the fabric and looked up. My vision blurred, my hand wobbled and the usual cute dark haired bartender—Perry, I think was his name—quickly cloned into triplets. _Damn. _I shook my head roughly, as if that would cure my double—or _triple_ vision. I was never that 'stable' to alcohol. Give me two or three drinks and you'll get a completely wasted May Maple.

"No. Don't give her any more, please." A concerned voice of a female rang out. At that moment I dismissed the anxiety that shone through it. Just her objection towards my having another drink riled me up. It irritated me. I gave her The Finger before turning back towards Perry. He was holding an empty cup, glancing at both of us in confusion. Probably wondering who to listen to.

"Don't listen to her." I couldn't help but slur like an alcoholic. My eyes stung a little bit. Flicking hair out of my face impatiently, I waved a hand at Perry. "_I'm_ paying for the drinks and _I _have the rights to order as many as I want."

"Ma_-ay_."

"Shut up, Emily."

Emily Prince. My childhood best friend. The good little church girl. Or in other words: the girl I had to put up with because of my parents—who ended up being my best and only friend. Of _course_ she wouldn't want me to drink anymore. She was totally against drinking. A sin—that was what she thought it was. And aside from that, I was drunk enough. I admitted that. And when I get drunk, I get vulgar. She couldn't stand that. Therein lay the difference between a church girl and a normal girl. Not that I called myself normal or anything but you get what I mean.

I could see the silhouette of the timid and tiny blonde under the dim lights. She was nervously eyeing her surroundings like a rodent caught in a trap. I bet she had never been to a place like this in her entire life before and would not even_ think_ of going—if it weren't for me. I didn't know why, but I felt proud for that particular fact.

"I know you're upset," said Emily, turning back to me. Her grey-green eyes glimmered hopelessly under the poor lighting. She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, a gesture that she did every time she was nervous.

"You _should_ know."

From beside me, I heard a conversation between a big burly man and a woman dressed in red. They were talking loudly, arguing. The man kept on repeating: "But Helen!" even if he didn't say anything after that. The woman was speaking fast, in a loud but hushed voice. As if she wanted the man to know she was angry, but didn't want anyone else to overhear. I turned away from them, no longer interested.

The barman placed a little cup filled with cheap scotch in front of me. The copper colored liquid glowed in the cup. I reached for it, almost like it was about to disappear any second—and drained the bitter liquid in one quick motion. As the burning sensation traveled down my throat, I slammed down the glass onto the chipping mahogany table and motioned for another shot. Perry moved to pour me another glass, before getting stopped by a palm_. Emily. _

"That's enough, May. Listen to me! I know you're in the dumps; losing your job, getting kicked out of your apartment and breaking up with Micah—"

"Micah . . . Oh dear _Lord_, I miss Micah!" I exclaimed in a loud voice. Nobody turned to look. The bar was noisy enough. I rolled my head over to Perry, giving him one of my best drunken smiles. "Be a sweetheart and pour me another scotch shot, will ya?"

As he unscrewed the almost empty bottle, Emily's frowned dug deeper and deeper. The faded cushioned seat squeaked under her as she turned to grab my shoulders. Across the room, the song _'Just Dance'_ played at full blare from the old jukebox. Somebody shouted in frustration, like how I had just done. A couple of men hooted with laughter. A clatter of applause rang after somebody made a shot at the Pool table. Typical night scene in a bar.

Emily slapped my cheeks slightly to get my attention. "You didn't let me finish! Okay, so you're in a little rut. That doesn't mean you have to get wasted. It won't help the situation you're in. I'm sure you can get some money from Aunt Caroline. At least enough to help you rent another place while you look for a job."

"You don't know _shit_ about the situation that I'm in." I narrowed my eyes at her, as another glassful of whiskey was poured. "I can't go to my mother after I mess things up. That's just wrong."

I gulped down the shot of whiskey and almost choked. Spluttering, I struggled to speak again: "For God's sake, Emily. I asked you to come so you could listen to what I have to say! Not to make little comments and give pointless advice."

The blonde watched me wearily as I ordered yet another drink. "Fine. Go ahead. Do what you want."

I did. And I would have, despite what she had to say. I poured drink after drink down my burning throat. Each shot went to the mess ups of my life; to Micah's emotionless face when he dumped me; to Emily's annoyingness; to _me _in general. The only thing I remembered before everything turned black was the disappointed look on my friend's face. The way she looked as if she expected far more from me. But I didn't know just what she was expecting.

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I woke up to the smell of frying bacon and smiled into the pillow that smelt of cologne. Sweet mornings. Later on, Micah would come and wake me up and we would have a morning cuddle together before I headed off to work. I opened one eye and peeked out of the pillow to greet my surrounding. The familiar bedroom, wallpapered with blue stripes, with a small study table, mirror and Micah's dress clothes hung up neatly in hangers. The room was clean, like it always was. It reminded me of a room at a hotel.

_Wait_—what? Something was wrong with the picture . . . Questions swam into my brain and into my conscience. The more I started to wake up, the more I started to be confused.

_Why do I smell of cigarettes and whiskey . . .? Oh, that terrible headache! _

I gasped and suddenly sat up in bed. The pain attacked me like my long lost enemy. I groaned, taking my head in my hands and closing my eyes. A blue volcano erupted in my vision. As the lava slowly started to melt away, everything just came running back to me. Getting dumped, losing my job, kicked out of my apartment since I couldn't pay the rent, the night at the bar with Emily, and drinking my heart out . . .

And I was suddenly back at Micah's place? How was that even possible? Not unless . . .

"Oh, hey. You're up. Good. I was wondering what to do with you."

I looked up, startled and stared into dreamy blue eyes. My boyfriend, Micah Van. Okay, okay. Correction: my _ex-_boyfriend, Micah Van. He stood in jeans and a dress shirt. His hair was in his usual faux-hawk. Just the sight of him made my heart flutter again. Micah Van, the boy I fell in love with in college. The boy who helped me to learn what love really was. The boy that could make sunshine on my rainy days. And not to mention the boy who dumped me just the day before, claiming that he had some "issues" to work on before entering serious commitment.

"Um. _How_ did I get here . . . ?" My question broke and trailed off into the air. The very awkward filled air, for that matter. An awkwardness that was uncomfortable—for the both of us, I could tell. Micah pushed his hands inside the pocket of his faded blue jeans and shrugged casually.

"Emily rang me up last night. Said you were passed out and didn't know where to take you."

I blushed in embarrassment. It was bad enough that he found out I got wasted because of the break up . . . but knowing that I didn't have anywhere to go . . .? _Emily should die, I swear. _

"Sorry." I got up from bed, noticing that I was still dressed up in the clothes from the day before. He hadn't changed me into pajamas like he always used to do when I would fall asleep in my clothes. Well, _of course_ he wouldn't, stupid; I scolded myself. We were over. O V E R. That was what he said when he dumped me—and he probably meant it. My headache grew even more as the veins under my forehead throbbed. But I went on talking because I figured it was the right thing to do. "I didn't mean to be a burden. I guess I should probably leave."

"You should."

I felt stung, like a slap on the face—except worst. It was like he was a whole different person from the Micah I dated and knew for three whole years. I kept on trying to tell myself that we were over. That we were nothing more than just awkward friends—but I couldn't bring myself to believe that. Every second I thought of him. Every cell in my body sought for him and I didn't even know why. I suddenly realized that I desperately wanted to get drunk last night, not because of the lost of my job, not because of being forced to leave my apartment—but because I wanted to _forget_ him, even if it was for a slight second.

"Micah . . ." I whispered, sounding desperate even to my own ears. I hated myself so much! Why couldn't I just collect the little dignity that I had left and walk out of his apartment?

He sighed and placed a hand on his face, squeezing the valley between his eyes. "I'm sorry, May. I just . . . It's _hard_ for me, you know? Sometimes I feel like you just _need_ me too much . . . Maybe I'm sounding like a douche, but I want to know that you _can_ live without me. That you _can_ survive on your own."

I shook my head, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes. A lump formed at the back of my throat like something caught in the drain. "No, no, no." I whispered again, not quite trusting my voice anymore. "You've got it all wrong. It's not that I _can't_ live without you . . . It's that I don't even want to _try_."

"May, please! Stop making this harder! I'm not going to be standing by you for the rest of your life! I can't handle that kind of commitment! You need to _show _me that you can live on your own . . ." He quickly entwined his fingers in the belt hoops of his jeans. "I decided it was best that we go our separate ways, thinking that it was better for the both of us. Of course we can still be _friends_ . . . but I just can't have somebody clinging to me. Do you understand me, May?"

I stared at him. My entire body seemed frozen. What was he saying? What in the _world _was he saying? I didn't _cling_ to him. I _needed _him. There was a complete difference between those two words! I nodded my head to Micah's waiting question. I _did_ understand what he was saying. I just didn't agree with it.

Nonetheless, it brought a smile to his face. "Thank you! You don't know how relieved I am that you understand me, May! Just . . . Thank you!"

"It takes two to start a relationship—and it takes two to end one, Micah. We started it together—but only _you_ ended it. _I_ never agreed to it."

With that last word, I wiped the tears from my mascara-stained face and start to make my way out of the place that I used to be happy in. Maybe . . . _just _maybe he was meant to be left behind. Maybe I could find a better person out there . . . _somewhere_. I was so sick of trying hard . . . trying _so_ hard just so the one you loved would look your way. All this time I had been secretly afraid because I thought it would all be over in a blink of an eye . . . And that was just what happened. Maybe I just needed to be less afraid. Maybe I just needed to feel _confident_ in my own skin.

"May?"

I stopped in my tracks. Oh how I wished that he would say that he didn't mean to break up with me . . . That he wanted to start over again . . . That he would do whatever it took for us to work out. My heart yearned to hear those words. Words that only _he_ could say. Words that would mean the_ world_ to me and make me a whole different person. My ears strained to catch his next words:

"You forgot your purse."

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I chewed on my fingernails as I threw in a few quarters into the furthest payphone away from Micah's apartment. The coins clattered into the slot noisily and I quickly dialed the number of my only friend. The steady yet loud noise of the dialing tones slowly filled my head. The cool metal of the public phone ached my ears. I suddenly shivered in the very dirty tank top and jeans that I was wearing. I probably left behind my coat at Micah's place. I made no contemplation to go and fetch it.

I could smell myself in the small compartment of the payphone. And I smelt like the bar. My hair greasily coiled around my head as I pulled it into a ponytail, while cradling the phone in the crook of my shoulder. I knew I was the furthest thing away from attractive right then. Maybe that explained why Micah was so cold to me.

Emily answered after the fourth ring. Her voice sounded perked and happy. She reminded me of . . . well, _me _when I used to feel happy. I suddenly was jealous of her. She had everything she could possibly want in life. Emily had gotten engaged a few months ago, she worked as a church singer and her parents were proud of her. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, and she _never_ had gotten her heart broken.

"May! Where are you calling from? This isn't Micah's number."

"That's because I'm _not_ at his place, Captain Genius."

The cold winter air blew my hair back. The morning traffic was starting to heavy; the roads were starting to fill with people. Normal life . . . Normal, _happy_ lives. I remembered when I used to be one of them. It made me realize how much I actually _missed_ being in a crowd—just being taken away with the wind.

"Oh." Consciousness slipped and set unto Emily's voice. "Did he . . . ask you to leave?"

"No. He said I could live happily ever at his place—but I chose to leave anyway."

"What? Why'd you do _that_?"

Stupid Emily. I rolled my eyes at her naivety. Minute by minute she was reminding me of the person I _used _to be. My life filled with use-to-bes all of a sudden. "Um, earth to Emily? _Hello_, dense. I'm being sarcastic."

Swelling silence filled the telephone line and for a moment I thought she had hung up. But she spoke again before I could place the receiver back on the rack. "I'm sorry."

"You should be!" I was fast to snap at her. I knew exactly what she was saying sorry for. Not because she didn't get my sarcasm—no. She knew her mistake . . . "Why did you call _him _out of all people?"

"He was the only person that came to my mind . . . And he sounded really casual about it too. I thought it would help you work out your relationship, you know."

I swatted her words away with a quick gesture of my hand, before coming to a realization that we were talking on the phone and she couldn't see my expressions. "It didn't. Good try, Em. But I don't think anything is going to change his mind." I paused. Emily mistook it for sadness, maybe even tears. She started to console effortlessly.

"Oh, May. Someday you'll find somebody who'll blow you off your feet and make you realize why it didn't work out with Micah or anybody else." Her sweet voice cracked. As if she, herself, was about to cry for my situation. "That's fate, you know? I always think of fate like a strange and unpopular restaurant . . . The waiters will bring you things that you didn't order, things that you didn't anticipate, and sometimes things that you don't always like. But it _will _get better. I promise. God will help you."

"Emily, please stop saying bull." I wrapped my free arm around my very cold body, although it didn't make any difference. "I'm cold and I'm hungry. The payphone will run out any moment. I'm going to ask you a big favor. Can I live with you for a while? Just until I find a job and a new apartment?"

"Oh!" Her voice sounded surprised, genuinely surprised. I wasn't stupid. I knew she didn't want me around her and Cameron Becker—her fiancé. Or else she would have mentioned it sooner, wouldn't she? She _could _have taken me to her place, but she chose to call Micah. Simply because she knew she couldn't bear my burden. But now that she was under the headlights—under my confronting question, she couldn't refuse. Or else she would be giving her entire 'good girl' thing away. "Oh, of course you can, May! I don't know _why_ I haven't thought of it."

"Thanks, Em. You're a real lifesaver."

A pause came from the other end, before she replied; almost in a strangled sounding voice: "N-no problem!"

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Author's Note:

REVIEW. :)

_-Suzie _x


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

Fast update since I have everything typed out! :)

Enjoy!

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**The Perfect Man**

_SuzieQuaKes-UnreachableRomance_

updated: 3/19/10

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**T W O **

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"_There_ ya go. The last box."

I smiled up at Cameron Becker. His friendly face beamed back at me. I couldn't help but notice the slight appearance of age lines and wrinkles of stress. Cameron was about eight years older than me and Emily (considering that Emily and I were born in the same year with only two months between each other). Which made him about thirty—give or take six months. His black eyes filled with wisdom. Eyes of a minister. That was what Cameron was. A church singer and a minister . . . couldn't be a greater match made in freaking heaven.

The said-man placed a creased brown box down on the floor before contently looking around the room. Emily's apartment was small and there was only the tiny guest room that was available for me to call 'home' for God knows how long. I felt terribly upset and uncomfortable, just barging into her place like that—but what could I do? Cameron was awfully nice about it though. He helped me move all my things from that old flat at 35th Street. I was never too fond of that old place.

"Thanks, Cam." I lifted the box and shoved it into the corner where all the other unpacked containers lay. So far I had only unloaded a couple of necessary things that I needed. Toiletries, a change of clothes or two, a photograph or two to give a little personification—that was about it.

I actually liked the room that Emily provided me. It was wallpapered in a checker board fashion with a little bathroom attatched to it in the corner. The only furniture was a bed that stood in the middle of the room along with a full length mirror. But that was enough. I really didn't plan on staying for all that long. I hated to be dependent on somebody.

"No problem. I'm glad that we could help." Cameron interloped his fingers between the belt hoops of his jeans, slightly tipping on the balls of his feet. Friendly crinkles underlined his black eyes. "Why don't you rest for a while? I'm sure you're dead beat. I'll knock when dinner's ready. Emily's been going wild in the kitchen. She's making a special dinner for your first night with us."

"Oh that's okay!" I suddenly felt really bad for being such a big burden. It was true that I hadn't been generally _kind _to Emily all these years. And it was sweet that she still was there in my time of need. "I'll go help her out in the kitchen!"

Cameron laughed in a pleasant manner. That was what I really liked about him. Oh, in a friendly way—mind you. He was always so . . . _good_. It was weird because I found Emily annoying for that same reason. But then again, I had known Emily longer and knew a lot more things about her. A lot more _irritating_ things.

"No, no. You'll stay _right_ here. Em doesn't like extra hands in _her_ kitchen."

He smiled and I smiled as well. Finally I had to give in. "All right. But I swear you guys are spoiling me too much!"

"We like spoiling our guests."

With that last word, Cameron gave me a wave and left. The wooden door clicked softly as it fell shut. I stared at it for a moment before heaving a little weary sigh: the closest thing to crying. I could finally let my sadness out and not have to worry about anybody. The thing was—I really didn't know just _what _I was grieving about. Of course, I knew that I had plenty to be sad about. But none of those were factors that I was thinking about at that moment. A feeling of sadness just was _in _me. I felt like weeping.

Throwing myself on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling. I just couldn't make out that feeling of sorrow. Some strings of cobweb floated above me, but aside from that the ceiling was pure white. Bland—unmarked by any dirt.

After staring in silence for a few minutes, I decided to hop up and take a quick shower. I figured that would maybe help that horrible feeling I had at the bottom of my stomach. Realizing that I hadn't yet unpacked a clean towel, I trudged to the area of messy, half-opened boxes_. All _of my worldly possessions. It seemed so little.

I opened the first box I saw. Stuffed animals, books from my college days, a couple of paintings that I bought at a yard sale, some cracked dishes . . . things that I didn't need at the moment. I moved to the next box; one that was marked in Sharpie pen: _Past_. For some strange reason, I felt so compelled to open it. My fingers ached to peel the hurriedly applied tape. A burning desire filled my body.

I shrugged to myself and pulled off the duct seal. Curiosity was just too strong—and aside from that, I was in no particular rush to shower. At once I was greeted by a yearbook. _Oh my God;_ I thought to myself. _High school days. _

The yearbook was thick and dusty. On the front, it read: _Petalburg High School 1993_—_1994_ in odd bold letters. Wiping the dust away with my hand, I turned open the book and flipped over to the _sophomore_ class. Faces welcomed me. Ghastly faces—images that were forever gone in time. I laughed a little when I saw Kenny Marengo. The brown-haired boy that I had a crush on for many years through high school. It seemed so silly for me now. I noticed now his nose seemed to stick out awkwardly and his hair that flew in all different directions. How different from gorgeous Micah . . .

_Was that all it really was?_ I thought to myself. Things that seemed so important then . . . It was meaningless _now_. _Life goes by so quick;_ I noted humbly to myself. _You just have to enjoy it while it lasts. _

I glanced over with a smile at some girls that were quite popular then. Flora Baker, the head cheerleader with her deep burgundy hair—smiling like a movie star. I heard about her recently. She was working nights at some unpopular bar downtown. Who would have guessed that Flora, the beauty of the beauties; the _favorite_ girl among the football players—would be working as a waitress, six years later?

I turned over the page and a very familiar young girl came into view. Emily. She hadn't changed much. The same curly blond hair that reached to her shoulders, glasses over grey-green eyes, that same smile that revealed her pink gums . . . She looked the _same_—except for the fact that she looked younger and less mature. I smiled at her young expression before flipping the page.

I winced when a face looked up at me from the musty-smelling book. Oh. My. Freaking. Jesus. I burst out laughing and didn't stop until I had tears running down my face and my side ached. _Me. Me_ when I was sixteen years old. Six entire years ago, I looked like . . . _that_.

My brown hair that now reached my back was a bob then. It curled around my ears, looking sort of like a weird helmet on my head. My bangs were cropped short; _too_ short for that matter. I was wearing a red headband—my favorite one then. It had a worn out satin ribbon sticking from the side and it looked silly and childish to me now. My blue eyes were red with the flash and I was wearing a patterned blouse with a full collar. I chuckled when I remembered having a fight with my mother because of that collar. _"Mom! They're so childish!" "But May, they're so becoming!" _

_School yearbook pictures always turned out to be the worst_; I amusingly thought to myself. I closed the book of memories and then moved onto more stuff from the pile of the past. My head cocked to the side when I saw a little piece of note paper, carefully folded into half just lying on top of the heap of things. I reached out for it and unfolded the crease. A smile crossed over my face as I read the title.

_The List _

_(100 Things I Want In a Boyfriend)_

Oh, dear Lord! I remembered this all too clearly. I had done that list in the same sophomore year when I had gotten dumped by yet another guy that wasn't the real deal. It was sort of like a wish list, something I swore to myself that I would consult before having a boyfriend. Of course I had forgotten it over time—but seeing it again swelled up old memories. I started to read it out, my lips moving, caressing every word that I wrote with wistfulness.

1. He'll watch with me, every episode of _Boy Meets World_, holding my hand.

2. He'll ditch the Prom to go to the park—even if he's been waiting for it for the entire year.

3. He'll be best friends with Mom.

4. He will willingly sing for me when he feels like it.

5. He will surprise me. Good surprises.

6. He will take the trash out cheerfully.

7. He will hand over the remote, even if he wants to watch the game.

8. He will not spend three quarters of his life at the gym.

9. He will pull open car doors for me, but let me close them so that I could hear the reassuring bang.

10. He hates to watch wrestling as much as I do.

11. He likes strawberry ice cream and is not afraid to show that he does.

12. He has straightened his hair but keeps it a secret.

13. He likes to give kisses on the forehead better than kisses on the lips.

14. He will run in the rain with me.

15. He sways me around when we hug.

16. He will sneak up on me and hug me from behind.

17. He will say "I love you" and mean it.

18. He adores animals.

19. He can make me laugh even on the worst day of my life.

20. He has spiky hair and will let me run my fingers through it whenever I want.

21. He will always smell like cologne and wear polo shirts . . . with the collars _up_.

22. He doesn't think it's stupid to blow on dandelions to make wishes.

23. He will consider me as a friend as well—not _just_ a girlfriend.

24. He never had braces before but would like to try them just to see how he'll look as a nerd.

25. He's dumb and is not afraid to admit it.

26. He'll tease me, and then say he's sorry.

27. He'll pretend to forget my birthday.

28. He can win things at the fair.

29. His eyes will twinkle whenever he's laughing.

30. He doesn't hesitate to give me piggy back rides even in front of his friends.

31. He enjoys long walks and cuddles.

32. He loves to go the beach.

33. He has all different colors of Converse shoes.

34. He likes photography and appreciates life.

35. He loves his mom.

36. He'll give me flowers—not roses, but _real _flowers.

37. He doesn't mind cooking.

38. He will play in the snow with me and give me hugs when I'm cold.

39. He knows how to keep a balance between his family/friends and spending time with me.

40. He tried to be a vegetarian once in his life but gave up because he likes burgers too much.

41. He looks good in cobalt.

42. He actually knows the exact color of my eyes.

43. He doesn't make fun of gay people.

44. He isn't destructive when he's angry. Instead, he blames himself.

45. He loves making new friends.

46. He understands emo people but doesn't support cutting.

47. He wants to live life with simplicity.

48. He likes to follow rather than leading.

49. However, he isn't dependent.

50. When he wants to sound smart, he'll quote from books. But it's not to say that he knows what they mean.

51. He plays guitar and sings.

52. He likes to wear band tee-shirts.

53. He's athletic.

54. He knows how to dress.

55. His favorite thing to do in the world is to laugh.

56. He's not afraid to beat up those that hurt me. Guys, of course. He doesn't hit girls.

57. He doesn't like social networking sites and doesn't spend his life online.

58. He likes to walk barefoot most of the time to feel the earth beneath his feet.

59. He has somebody he looks up to.

60. He's older than me, but doesn't act like that.

61. He hates poetry and love letters. He would rather show his love rather then say it in words.

62. He would never order me a salad.

63. He dated girls that he thought were cute, not hot.

64. He doesn't care if I talk about exes because he's not insecure.

65. He's never tried to smoke pot.

66. He used to be crazy about Yu-Gi-Oh when he was little.

67. He's taller than me so I can tiptoe to kiss him.

68. He'll buy stuffed animals for me.

69. He knows how to get tickets for a concert from my favorite band.

70. Once I tell him something, he'll never forget it.

71. He eats just as much as I do.

72. He doesn't make me feel fat or ugly.

73. He likes kids and kids like him.

74. He's ambitious. Once he has his heart set on something, he makes sure he gets it.

75. When he sees this list, he wouldn't laugh.

76. He eats a lot of food but doesn't get fat.

77. His favorite food is cookies that his mom makes.

78. He likes to whine and acts like a baby sometimes.

79. He has played football in high school before.

80. He's not the stereotypical jock.

81. He likes to watch reality TV.

82. He's a morning person.

83. His friends are all very nice people.

84. He likes to relax and go to clubs sometimes.

85. He has never had a one night stand and thinks they're stupid.

86. He doesn't spend the entire day looking at himself in the mirror.

87. He likes to text with smileys.

88. He doesn't snore. Not loud anyways.

89. He likes to watch movies alone at night when he can't sleep.

90. He shares the couch.

91. He's silly.

92. He has nice eyes.

93. His room is interesting and represents who he is.

94. He's broke all the time because his friends always borrow money from him.

95. He's selfless.

96. He doesn't believe in superstition but doesn't think it's stupid either.

97. He has respect for a lot of things.

98. His best friend is his mom.

99. He's sensitive but spontaneous.

100. He loves me.

I smiled faintly. It was all so bittersweet and the memories hit me like a rush of current. How idealistic I was then! I must have treasured myself so much to create a list like this telling myself that I wouldn't stop searching until I find a man that met all the qualities. Suddenly I became aware of my unexplainable sorrow that I witnessed earlier on. I was feeling like I had lost myself through all my failures. I felt . . . _useless_. Like I wasn't good for anything at all. Discovering this list had done something really amazing. It was making me understand that it wasn't too late to start over, to start from scratch. It would take some time and determination but it would happen.

Hit with this sudden motivation, I reread the list again; more carefully this time. Each word displayed my wistfulness and how fed up I was with finding the wrong guy. I wanted to make sure that when I see "the one" I wouldn't let go of him. I wanted to _know_ who the right guy was. And Micah . . . certainly didn't meet any of those things that I wanted. In fact, he was the complete opposite! I fell in love with him . . . but maybe that explained why it didn't work out.

At any rate, I was willing to start again. To start my life again and take time to find a guy that would meet all a hundred things on the list. And if I didn't find one . . . then it was just because no guy deserved me.

Feeling truly happier than I had been within these last few weeks, I smoothed the slightly creased notepaper and then taped it onto the wall. It would be my bible from now on.

* * *

"So? What did he say?"

I looked up from poking the vegetables on my plate. Dinner. Or to be more elaborate—dinner with Emily and Cameron. Emily had this rule about dinners. Everybody would share what they did during the day as it would be "fun" to hear about what was going on in each other's lives. I scoffed to myself when I heard that. Fun for her, maybe. She had nothing but good news to talk about. But for me, it was a confrontation of my letdowns; a daily chore that I didn't look forward to.

"He said he'll call me to let me know if I get the job."

Emily's face was tensed, I noticed. It was almost as if she was just waiting to be relieved; to hear good stuff from me. I guessed it was something to make her feel less guilty. Cameron's was much more relaxed. His demeanor was calm; happy if there was to be any good and supportive if there was a failure.

"Oh! Well that's certainly a compromise!" False lines of pleasure underlined Emily's face, making her seem thirty years older than she really was. Her fog colored eyes nervously crinkled up in a dainty laugh. She set down her knife and crossed her arms over the table. "They always say third time's the charm!"

I shriveled my nose in response. So far I had applied for two jobs—three to count the one that Emily was asking about. All of them were pretty plain ones—nothing too fancy about being a cashier at a grocery store or a typist at an unpopular company. I planned to build up from there. But it seemed as though all the jobs were selling like hotcakes. The manager of the grocery said something about only wanting to hire men as it would "be safer". It wasn't specified in the ad and I informed him of that. He retorted nonchalantly that it was because he wanted to keep his options open. There was no point in his argument, but I left anyway, disappointed.

The typist one had just been taken when I barged into the office. The boss was shaking hands with a very attractive woman, about thirty, and telling her that she would start the next day when I suddenly pulled open the door. Quickly I apologized to the both of them for ruining the entire moment. As I headed out of the building I kept on thinking about how I was too late, once again in my life.

Although I desperately wanted a job—_any_ job—it really didn't affect me much that I hadn't gotten the jobs. Of course I was totally resentful at being completely dependent upon somebody, but none of the jobs were actually my _'dream' _job for that matter. Since I was little, I had a knack for making up stories in my head. And when anybody would ask me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I always answered that I wanted to be a writer. Life didn't give me the chance to pursue the career though. I had finished with journalism major in college, but because of the lack of money and time I had, there was no chance for me to work on any huge novel.

Still there was a hope . . . Someday I might be pouring out all the stories that I had inside me and sit at my desk for fifteen hours a day, working on my books. Someday.

I came back into reality when Cameron laughed. A cautious laugh: soft and subtle. More of consolidating rather than pure amusement. "Come on, May! Em's right, you know you'll get this one." As much as his words were positive, his voice cracked through in demur. I really didn't blame him _or _Emily for that matter. After all, how supportive can a person keep on being?

"I hate to be the bearer of the bad news. But it's never good if they say they'll call you back. They either say they'll take you or the hope's pretty much gone." I took my head in my outstretched palm. It felt kind of like having dinner with my parents again. My dad believed in the same thing Emily did: sharing everything at dinner times.

"Nonsense." Emily finally smiled. "Well my day was certainly interesting too! We've been rehearsing endlessly for the Christmas choirs." Christmas was coming soon, reminding me that I had to find a job soon. When the winter holidays come, all the places to offer jobs would close up and lead me to wait further. Christmas also meant things like gifts, something I couldn't afford right now. And we all know how handmade gifts were so _tacky. _

"Christmas!" Cameron seemed excited. _He _would. It was his busiest time of the year. Endless preaching and sessions; it was probably like heaven for him. "Ah. I can hardly wait."

He smiled lovingly at Emily and she returned it. Somehow I felt like an odd one out: the only one who didn't think of religion that much, the only one who was not excited for Christmas, the only one without money or a home. So instead of joining in with the happy chorus, I poked my green vegetables and ate them all—the silly thing being that I hated green beans for all it was worth.

* * *

Emily came and talked to me right before we went to bed. After dinner, we all watched TV together—a kind of "special" thing to do, I could tell. A movie was playing on HBO and we watched that for a short moment. It was an Adam Sandler flick—one that was hilariously silly. We all laughed until we just about had tears rolling down our faces and our stomachs ached. That was when Emily decided it was time for bed. It was eight thirty, unbelievably early even for Emily Prince. But I decided that I was _exhausted_ and the rest would do well.

She knocked on the door right after I came out of the bathroom, freshly brushed and changed into my cotton PJs. She was wearing pajamas herself, merely clad in a flowing white nightie. She had her normally tied hair down and looked sort of like an angel. She told me that she wanted to talk and so I let her in.

"I'm really glad that you're here, May." Emily traced the pattern on the bedspread as she spoke. Her eyes never directly looked into me, careful and timid—just like she always was.

I arched my brows at her comment. She was? I thought opposite. I didn't speak my thoughts though. Instead, I answered her smile politely and clasped my hands over my lap in a feminine pose. "Thank you for letting me stay."

The blonde smiled again. "Of _course_, May. What are you talking about? We've known each other since we were little babies!"

I laughed slightly, pushing my hair back as I did so. "I'll deny it if you ever mention this—" I started to say and then smiled. "But I'm sure glad that you're my friend."

Emily giggled a little. A content silence fell upon us before she broke it by handing over a piece of paper. I looked at it in confusion and my blond friend suddenly looked flustered. She started to explain herself. "I love having you here with us, May. But to be honest, I'm not sure if you can stay for _that_ long. I mean—what if your mom wants to visit you? Or you want to have friends over? You need your own privacy."

I nodded, understanding her words. I knew what she was trying to say. It wasn't that she was concerned about _my_ privacy. She knew that my parents never visited me—even when I had my own apartment. I went to their place whenever there were any family reunions. My brother lived on his own too and so it was only suitable that the family home would be the place to meet. And I could live without having any friends over for the while.

No—Emily was concerned about _her _privacy. With me staying at their place, it was like the closure of all her and Cameron's time alone. I knew the feeling of wanting to just spend time with your boyfriend, nobody else. And I really wasn't blaming Emily for revealing this to me in the most subtle manner.

Emily continued, taking my nod as a cue to resume speaking. "You know what I mean, right? Well, I was just looking in the paper and I saw this interesting ad. I thought maybe you should consider this. The price seems really cheap for an apartment at a place like that."

She was still holding out the newspaper clipping in her feminine fingers and so I took it from her. I was a little bit interested, I had to admit. I wanted a place to my own anyway.

**A room to let!**

**Tenant Wanted! **

_821 Fourth Avenue, Petalburg_—_the best part of town! A perfect, huge, airy apartment! Five bedrooms: one to let. Equipped with hot water, gorgeous walk-in wardrobe, kitchen, bathroom and a fridge that's always kept full. Rent is fifty-five dollars a month but can be negotiated._

_Please contact 814321 A.S.A.P if interested._

I glanced up at Emily. The eyes under the rimmed glasses were hopeful. "This is a shared apartment," I pointed out to her. Wasn't she just going on and on about _privacy_ earlier on? What privacy would I have if I was sharing this "perfect" apartment with four other people?

"Oh, I know, May, but it sounds so _beautiful_! And you know the apartments on Fourth Avenue. So Victorian!" The blonde clasped her hands together under her chin in a wistful fashion. "I would so call that number if I were you. There's no harm in getting some information. And who knows? Maybe they might take you in!"

I scratched my head, a little bit confused about the entire matter. "But . . . what if they're really _weird_ people? I don't want to be living in a house full of maniacs!"

To that, my friend stuck out her bottom lip defiantly. "You never know unless you tried. And please don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want you here—"

"I know your intentions, Emily." I glanced down at the slip of newspaper again before drawing a tight sigh. "Oh, okay. I'll call. But not now though. Tomorrow. The first thing tomorrow. I'm free anyway. All right?"

My words caused the blonde to grace her face with a smile. "I hope you get the place."

"Yeah," I breathed out. "I hope so too."

Maybe it was my chance to start all over again.

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Author's Note:

Please review!! :)

_-Suzie x_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _

Yes, this_ is _a new chapter. :) I've had it typed like three months ago. :P But chapter four is still to be completed so I was taking my time to put this up. I don't want to be caught under the deadlines. =] Yeah, I love to sound professional. xD

Anyway.

Thank you so, so, so much for the reviews. I didn't expect even ONE when I posted this story as all my "fans" are most probably Contestshippers and don't 'do' Advanceshipping. But it's always great to see support. (: Please, please keep it rolling. I would love to receive any sort of feedback: critique, hate, love, so-so, etc. :)

I'll shut up now so that you can get to reading the third chapter! xD

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**The Perfect Man**

_SuzieQuaKes-UnreachableRomance_

posted: 4/6/10

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**T H R E E **

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"It is? Oh yes, I see. Mm-hmm. Oh, of course. I see. Right, right. Okay. Yes, see you then. Bye."

I placed the phone back into the receiver and whirled around to face Emily. Her grey-green eyes were eager—that of a child waiting to hear whether he could go to the supermarket with his mom. Her church choir rehearsals were called off today because it was snowing pretty heavily outside and hardly anybody could drive to the church that was like three miles away. Except Cameron, of course. The moment he got up, he grabbed the keys for his old pick up wagon and took off. I admired the man's love for his job.

"So?"

I shrugged my shoulders at my friend. She had forced me to call the number she gave me last night about the to-let apartment. I guess she was brimming with excitement for the response. "Well he said to come over and take a look. There's been a lot of interest for the room but he's keeping his options open."

Emily did a double-take. "Wait—what? _He_? So a guy lives there too?"

I smiled at the blonde. Oh, she had _no_ idea. "Yes, Em. And not just _one_ guy. The apartment is shared by _four_ men."

"What?!" I knew I would get that kind of reaction from the church girl. According to her, I guess it was bad to live with four men. I mean—_think about all the complications that would occur!_ She swatted away her mess of curls. "Okay, the place might sound fantastic, but you are not living with four men, May. Think about the problems that would happen!"

I tried not to laugh. I couldn't have been more right about Emily's reaction if I tried. I knew her _that_ well. "I thought you were the one that desperately wanted me to get the place?" I smiled at her flustered face and decided to end her torment. "Don't worry, Emily. It's four _gay_ men."

* * *

I was nervous as I approached the apartment. I didn't really know whether or not the fact that the men were _gay _had any effect on Emily but if it did—she hid it well. I guess it was sort of necessary for Emily to be open-minded towards everything—including gay people. I had no problem either. If they weren't like . . . weird or anything, then it was fine with me.

As I had expected, the place was attractive. And it was just the outside. A little porch was filled with blue periwinkle flowers. The front stairs that led to the big entrance were paint-chipped but I realized that it added towards the Victorian style of the apartment. Emily was right again. I had fallen in love with the romantic place.

As I walked inside the cool lounge, the heels of my shoes ringing upon the checkered tiles, I was surprised to hear a hum of an elevator. I was even more surprised when I saw one of those old fashioned elevators that you had to pull on the metal railing in order to travel up on it. I'd only seen these types of elevators in old, black and white romance movies and it surely got me excited.

An old lady dressed in a modest purple dress with matching sun bonnet and shoes smiled at me as I awkwardly walked in to the elevator. I pressed the '8' before pulling the metal rain shut and leaning back against the cool metal walls. The slow hum rang out once again.

"I haven't seen a pretty girl like you around here. Let me guess. Are you here to look at that room?"

The smile on the old lady's wrinkled face was contagious and I found myself grinning back. Charming old thing. I could tell that we were going to get along if I ever were to live here. "You're absolutely correct. Do you live here?"

"Yep. Room eight-oh-four. Right across the hall from the room you're going to look at. The name's Mrs. Green—but you can call me DiDi." She smiled. "Those boys living there are so _delightful! _Oh, with the exception of Rex, of course. Now that boy is an odd one. But the others are wonderful. It's such a pity that they're not interested in girls. But I'm sure you'd get along just fine with them."

I smiled politely at the lady. According to the news around here, these guys were pretty open about their sexuality. That was good, I guess. It was nice to see people being true to themselves for once. "I'm hoping to," I laughed and a content silence filled the atmosphere until the elevator stopped at the eighth floor. DiDi wished me luck before trotting away, her dress swaying as she went.

I approached room eight-oh-two with butterflies in my stomach. I always tended to get nervous for the slightest thing. I knocked on the door with a brass knocker and the big wooden door opened straight away. I knew I was expected. Instantly, I had a good look at the man who opened the door.

He was about my age I could tell—about mid twenties. He looked quite flamboyant with very dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Despite his showy appearance, he was, however, very handsome. He greeted me with a wide smile.

"Hi there. I guess you're the one that, like, called this morning?" A hand was outstretched towards me. "My name's Shiloh, by the way."

I took the hand and awkwardly shook it. "I'm May."

He released my hand and then smiled again. "Pretty name for a pretty person! Come on in. Everyone's been expecting you!"

I smiled back politely and followed him into the big lounge-like living room. There were four bean bag chairs spread out in front of the medium-screened television. A beige colored rug was rolled out on the floor. Compared to this place, Emily's apartment looked literally like an alley cat placed beside a Persian. _Damn_. And they only expected fifty-five bucks rent? What an offer!

"After Peter left, we'd kept the extra room empty. But now we're kinda in need of money. So, yeah."

I nodded and just as I was about to say something, three guys walked in. My jaw almost dropped. What DiDi said was far, _far_ of an understatement. Handsome? Psh. They were _hot!_ Well . . . the two were. There was one guy that particularly stood out though—and in a bad way. He had honey brown hair, a red sweatband pushing the locks back, and wore neon green spandex shorts. Need I say more?

He introduced himself to me first, walking over and holding out a hand. "Hey! I bet you came to look at the room. You'll absolutely love it." He smiled and I saw that despite of the odd clothes that he was wearing, he was actually not that bad looking. "My name's Rex Goldman. What's yours?"

So he was the one that DiDi had talked about. The "odd" one. I wouldn't have categorized him as "odd" though. There was a certain glow to him that made you feel compelled to be his friend—despite the horribly tight neon pants. I smiled back at him and awkwardly clasped the wider but soft hand in a shake that wasn't very graceful. "May Maple."

"Pretty name!" Rex still smiled. His cornflower blue eyes twinkled in a lively fashion. "I _adore_ you already! So little and shy! And those eyes! Girl, you have eyes to die for." He looked back towards the other three who had crowded themselves around the entrance of kitchen. "She is so the one! Let's take her in, guys."

"Hold your horse, Rex," a man with jet black hair spoke up and walked over to us. He smiled as he approached me. I saw that it was a warm smile which made his brown eyes shine. There was a certain element to him too, and it wasn't the kind of bouncy and lively atmosphere that Rex produced. It was more of a calm demeanor. The two dark eyes held wisdom and strength that looked far beyond his years. For a moment, I was captivated by him.

"We have to be sure if this pretty lady would want to live in a house of maniacs like us." He laughed and I just couldn't stop staring. Instantly, I knew that this guy had a past behind his smile. And I was interested in it. "Now, would you like to see the room? And I apologize for my friend. He's just a happy creature that always wants to have fun."

I felt myself blush for some reason. My neck throbbed with heat. "Oh, no, I completely understand!" I smiled over at Rex just to prove my point. "I love people who just want to have fun and be happy. I envy them, really. It's a quality in itself."

My words made Rex beam, which made his friend smile as well. "You know what? I agree with him now." Those dark eyes twinkled again. "We do need somebody like you around here. I like you." I blushed again, this time harder. My face probably looked like it was about to explode. I guess the guy must have noticed, because he laughed. "Or is that being too straight-forward? Sorry again. Before we scare you off, let's show you the room and introduce you to everyone. My name's Ash."

Ash. Ashton. No wonder he had that dark and handsome look. "May," I replied shyly. I was always like this when meeting new people. Sometimes I despised myself for that habit.

"I've heard." Ash smiled again and motioned his hand to follow as he made his way towards the now two guys leaning against the door of the kitchen. They straightened up as we approached them. There was one last guy that I hadn't met yet. He was blonde, blue-eyed and had undeniably good looks.

"This," Ash pointed to the blonde. "This is Jeff. He's pretty much new around here too. Moved last fall."

"Hi." I smiled politely, not wanting to make a bad first impression. Jeff was a little different from the other guys though. He had this look in his eyes that showed that he thought he was the only one that mattered in the world.

"Hey." There was no handshaking this time. No smiles. No warm hellos.

"Yo," I saw Shiloh elbow Jeff in the ribs slightly. "Manners."

Jeff just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Catch you guys later. Got stuff to do."

And with that, he walked away.

I was a little bit uncomfortable with the way that Jeff acted. It was all part of his character, I guessed. He probably didn't care for changes. And a strange new girl looking to live with him was maybe too big of a change for him to accept. In my head, I immediately drew a character profile for Jeff. It just instantly happened. I still had the mind of a writer.

"Sorry about that." Shiloh's voice cut into my thoughts. "Jeff is just Jeff. Never gets along with anybody. He's a great person once you get to know him though."

"I'm hoping so." I smiled, and the three guys returned it. I knew that I had made friends. Good friends, in fact. DiDi was right. They _were_ friendly and kind. And I instantly knew—without needing to see the room—that I would like to live there with them. It seemed like a free life, where everybody was accepted for who they were.

And I needed that kind of sunshine in my life.

* * *

I moved in, two days after meeting the guys. Emily was both pleased and shocked to hear that I gotten the room so quickly. I was pleased too. I was happy that a day after seeing the room, Ash had called me and told me that they were going to accept me. (He mentioned that Jeff was a little bit hasty although it wasn't such a big problem.) He even said that because they liked me so much and heard about my job loss, I didn't need to pay the rent until I found a proper paying job. The last part, I thought, was a little bit too much because I personally felt that I wasn't anything special. And besides, weren't they taking in somebody because of a money shortage? But Ash, Shiloh and Rex were so nice and insisted.

What could I do but accept the offer? It would certainly be a great help and besides that, the thing that I was most excited for was that I would get a chance to work on writing. Of course I would look for a job and everything but I knew that since Christmas and the winter holidays were approaching, there would be less job offers and it would take until early February for everything to regain their regular composure again.

That was a lot of time on my hands. And because I didn't have to worry about money at the moment, it would give me a chance to really start putting my ideas together and work on my stories for the very first time in life. I had a novel idea on my mind. Something that was based around my own experiences.

I was so excited as I collected the very little things that I taken out during my stay at Emily's. Somehow I knew that living with Emily would be temporary. I broke the good news to both Emily and Cameron at dinner and they were really happy for me. Then, I made a mistake. After dinner, I made a mistake and called Micah.

Micah, out of all people.

I felt that he had to know. I felt that he needed to know that I really was strong enough to stand on my own two feet and get myself a place in the world. He couldn't say that I was clingy or unable to survive alone. I was doing fine in the world. And Micah needed to know that more than anybody else.

I instantly regretted it when I heard his voice on the other end, sounding cranky. He probably had a bad day at the law firm. Micah was a lawyer. No surprise, right?

"Hi. It's May."

I could _feel_ Micah rolling his eyes. He replied though, instead of hanging up like I had expected him to. His voice stressed with over exaggerated patience that came from years of working with irritating clients. "Hi, May. What can I do for you today?"

_People don't always just call you because they need your help, jackass. _My mouth itched to say something like that. I pressed my lips together instead. I didn't want to be starting a fight. "Nothing really." I couldn't think of anything more to say. What the hell was I thinking when I decided to call him? _'Oh hi, I got a new apartment now on Fourth Avenue, living together with four gay people—one of whom I think is totally sexy. Just thought I'd let you know._'?

"Well?" Micah's patience obviously broke through. That side of him which I absolutely _hated_ was back. The impatient, cranky Micah Van that didn't care about anything in the world except his work. "What's the reason for calling then?"

"I, uh, it's just that . . ." I trailed off. My brain was seriously _blank_. "I got a new apartment on Fourth Avenue."

"Fourth Avenue?" Micah repeated, as if not quite sure that was what I had said. "Fourth Avenue, Petalburg? As in the place downtown?"

I smiled. _Score one for me_. This was the reaction that I wanted. "Yes," I answered in a smug tone. "You're right, Micah."

"Really?" His voice clearly held interest again. I felt myself getting an indescribable feeling of pleasure. Micah's apartment was pretty first class in itself, but it was nothing like the apartments in Fourth Avenue and everybody was pretty much aware of that. "How'd you manage that? Far as I know, the rents are high as hell and they're not planning to go down anytime soon."

"Well, I've managed." I didn't want to tell him the entire story of those guys and their decision that I didn't have to pay my rent and whatever. "Anyway, I just called to say that I'm doing great. I'm planning to start writing soon."

"You are?" Micah was impressed and surprised and it clearly shone through his voice. _Score two for me_. He knew that I had a thing for writing. He went to college together with me. He knew all about my ambitions. It only took one night at a bar for my life story to come out. "Wow. That's nice. It's really great to know that you're doing fine."

I clenched my teeth. Well . . . ? I was independent now. Wasn't that what he wanted me to be? I waited for some sort of confession or something telling me that he only broke up with me to see how I would do on my own. And now that I had passed the test, we could be together again. Of course, I was being silly once more. He didn't say anything afterwards and there was an uncomfortable silence before I spoke.

"How are you doing?" It was small talk, but I knew that talking was an essential thing in phone calls. What else was I going to say? We clearly were not on intimate terms as before and there was not much that we could talk about. That was what I hated about exes. You could never be completely _normal_ with each other anymore.

"Good. Won two cases." I was not surprised. "I'm also seeing this girl from my law firm. Her name's Eliza."

_That_ I was surprised at. Micah was already dating another girl? And it only had been, what, two weeks since we've broke up? How long had he been having his eye on this Eliza girl? Maybe he was even cheating with her while we were still together. Questions without answers swam into my mind. I never really got over him but apparently he had.

_And Micah shoots the ball from the three point line and wins the game. _

_

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Author's Note:

I would love you forever if you clicked that button and typed in a few sentences of what you thought. :)

_-Suzie x_


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: 

Um, hey everyone. (: Wow, it's been a while since I've had any activity on here. Sorry, I've been so busy preparing for exams that it's been so long since I've even got to touch my stories.

I had this chapter written AGES ago, but I keep forgetting to edit it and then post it. I've gotten around to doing it now :)

God, my finals start from Monday. Wish me luck ;)

**Enjoy. **

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**The Perfect Man**

_SuzieQuaKes-UnreachableRomance_

posted: 5/22/10

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**F O U R **

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Dappled sunshine danced on the clean wood breakfast table. The sound of birds and early morning traffic floated through the air that smelled like bacon. It was my very first morning at the _Roadhouse. _That was what the guys called it. I thought I should wake up early and prepare breakfast since I was new and not paying the lease. But Ash had beaten me to it. When I staggered into the kitchen at six thirty, Ash was already in a dark blue apron, humming a song and frying away.

I helped him prepare the food despite his refusal and before long the rest of the guys were up. They were obviously morning people. I would learn to adjust with that, I guess. The kitchen bustled with friendly laughter from all of us—except Jeff of course. The moment he got up, he grabbed a muffin from the basket and left the apartment. I wanted to ask one of the guys what his problem was, but I figured that it was definitely not in my league to start a sort of dispute with one of the house members. Not when they had saved me from a total money crisis.

We all sat down to a well-made breakfast an hour later—Shiloh, Ash, Rex and I. They decided to play twenty questions just so that we could get to know each other better. I was eager to know a little bit more about Ash. So far the only thing I knew about him was that he was beautiful—and gay. And I knew that there was far more to him than just that. It was hard for me to believe but I was growing an interest on a guy that preferred his own gender. I had never dreamt that something like that would happen.

"How did you, like, get your name?" Rex asked as I cut a piece of jammed toast. Fortunately today he wasn't wearing his spandex shorts. Instead, he had on a very colorful Hawaiian shirt and overalls. I kind of liked his way of portraying the person who he was. I admired that about him. "My Dad named me Rex because he practically worshipped Rex Grossman. You know, like, the quarterback from Redskins?" I shook my head. I was not the kind of person who watched men tackling each other. Rex giggled. "I googled him up. Kinda cute. But which football player is _not _cute, seriously?"

That made everyone laugh. Once the laughter died down, I smiled thoughtfully at his question. "My Mom named me May." I played with the fork as I recalled Mom's story that she had told me when I was young. "She met Dad on the first day of May."

"That's . . . sweet." Ash smiled at me from across the table and I blushed. He looked good today, with his black hair in its usual spikes and wearing a green polo shirt. The collars were popped up. I liked it like that. But it reminded me of something . . . Something that I just couldn't remember.

"More like cheesy," I mumbled under my breath and stared down at my lap so nobody could see the embarrassment on my face. Fortunately, I was saved by another question from Shiloh.

"Do you have any siblings?"

I smiled as I remembered my little brother. The annoying little boy had actually grown up into one of the top students at White Medical School. Not like it was much of a surprise to me though. Max had always been a huge nerd. All the more reason for my parents to be disappointed in me. "Yes, I do actually. A little brother. His name's Max and he's like four years younger than me. He's currently at White."

Shiloh's brows arched. "The university?" I nodded and he looked impressed. "Wow."

I smiled and took a bite of toast. Typical response that I would get when I told anybody about Max. He would be really successful one day. Me—not so much. Before I could swallow, Ash asked me question number twenty.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The toast went down the wrong way and I racked with sputters and coughs for a full five minutes. What a way to avoid the question. I didn't know why a simple question could make me react that way. I guess the memory of Micah was just too strong. Finally I calmed down, draining down an entire glass of water that Rex fetched me. My eyes watered and I would have thought that Ash would back away from the sensitive topic. I thought wrong. When my coughing and spluttering ended, he repeated his question:

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

There just was no way around him. I stared down at my feet in a noncommittal manner. If I had to tell the truth, I would do it subtly. "I used to. We broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh, my God. That's, like, so sad." Rex was empathetic as he pressed a hand to his heart. "But I bet it was _all_ for the better, right? I was in this _oppressing_ relationship with this jerk for, like, a few months before I dumped him a week ago. Ugh. Men are so complicated."

I smiled at the irony of his words. I felt a little bit relaxed about talking about Micah though, now that Rex opened up to me. "I know. But I wasn't the one doing the dumping like you, Rex. I loved him . . . But he just thought I was clingy and needy."

"That's crazy. He must have been a real asshole." Ash's face was red as he spoke. "Trust me; I've met a few guys like that. They're nothing more than a pretty face."

I smiled faintly at him, feeling somehow rejected. His words made me feel as though it was my first time realizing that he was gay. Ash was the one chance that I got to get over Micah and he just _had_ to prefer his own gender. Not that I was blaming him or anything, but it was just so unfortunate for me.

The game of twenty questions continued, only now it was Ash that we were questioning. I decided to start off with the basic stuff even though the most important question I wanted to ask was '_Are you seeing anybody right now?_' Instead, I started off with a simple, innocent question:

"When did you move here?"

He smiled at me and I felt my stomach twist. He had such warm brown eyes. They reminded me of hot chocolate on a winter day. "Three years ago. The place was on sale, you see, and Shiloh, Rex and I were already friends since then. We had our own little money from our parents and decided to gather up all the bucks we had and buy the place. You could pretty much say that all three of us own it."

I nodded at the information. I quickly thought of another question. I was the only one that was asking the questions as Shiloh and Rex probably knew everything there was to know about Ash. "Where did you live before?"

"Pallet Town. My family's still there. I came to Petalburg for school. _And_ other reasons, of course . . ." He trailed off, looking distant. Those dark eyes were reliving a time in the past, I could tell. I was so intrigued to learn more, but I thought that it was way too early for me to be investigating every little detail of his life. It would come soon enough.

"When did you meet these guys?" I gestured my hand over to Shiloh and Rex who were listening to our conversation and eating. The distant look in Ash's eyes disappeared. He looked full of life again.

"I met Rex at my first year of Petalburg University. Shiloh and I go a long time back. It didn't take long for our sexuality to go out and the entire school made fun of it, to put it simply. But then I met Rex and some other guys and saw that they were no different from us. We got along great."

I smiled. "So wait, what's your ambition?"

"I wanted to be a musician. I love music and for many years, my best friend was my guitar. And my Mom, of course. She's always there for me. I'm still trying to get a job as a music teacher." Ash looked distant again. "But it's hard to get a job once they get to know that you're gay."

I suddenly felt sorry for him. His life must have been hard. I never really knew that much about homosexual people. There were some people in high school that were openly 'out of the closet', but I knew that most kids avoided them. I didn't really avoid them, but I didn't make an effort to get to be their friend either. It suddenly made me feel guilty.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I frowned and thought I should reveal a little bit about my ambitions as well. "I always wanted to write books. And I have all the ideas in me, but there weren't enough time or money for me to sit down at a desk and work. I was always forced to work in a place that I hated."

"Writing books sounds fantastic!" Ash exclaimed, looking more like himself once again. "Why don't you start writing now? You don't have to pay the rent or anything and food is always in the fridge. You could stop your job search and write."

I smiled at him. That was exactly the idea that I had in mind, but I didn't want to make myself seem like I was using the privilege that they gave me for my own benefit. Shiloh had mentioned when I first met him that they were renting the room because they needed money. And I wanted to find a job as soon as possible and pay the rent.

"I'm not going to stop my job search," I told him. "I'm going to keep on applying for jobs until I find one that gives me a well enough salary so I can pay my rent. And then I'll start writing."

"That's nonsense," Shiloh spoke up. His green eyes were serious. "Once you have a job, you'd hardly find the time to write. Come on, May. This is a once in a lifetime chance for you to pursue your dream! We don't mind about the money, do we?"

Ash and Rex shook their heads, and Shiloh looked triumphed. "See. The money is no problem at all. The only reason we were renting this room is because we wanted a friend. And we got that in you."

I was touched, of course. How was it possible that these guys were the nicest people in the universe? "That's . . . that's really kind of you guys." I was on the verge of tears now. I didn't want to appear as a drama queen, but it made me so happy and so _excited_ that I could finally start my writing career. Maybe I could finally excel at something for once in my life. Maybe I could finally make my parents proud of me and not Max.

* * *

It took only a week's time for me to buy an old typewriter at a bargain shop and started to work away on the book that I was going to write. I knew from several years studying journalism that you couldn't just sit down and write whatever that comes in your mind. There had to be a certain outline of the plot, the characters and all that stuff. But I was so excited to finally start writing again that I couldn't resist. I sat down at my desk and wrote for four hours.

At the end of the four hours, I sat up from the wooden chair and flipped through the twelve pages of writing in amazement. My back was killing me, my fingers were going numb from pressing those keys and my eyes hurt but the manuscript in front of me made me forget all about that. It was amazing, really, to be staring at something that would (_hopefully_) start my career as a real writer.

I threw the horn-rimmed glasses onto the desk and grabbing the manuscript, I headed out of my room to let the guys read my first piece since a long time ago. It turned out that Rex wasn't home and Shiloh wasn't either. Jeff was, surprisingly. He was sitting in his beanbag chair, intently watching _Project Runway_. If Jeff had been nice to me—even for about _five_ _seconds_, maybe I would have showed him my story with pride and joy. But he wasn't. And I wasn't that desperate to humiliate myself.

Instead, I searched for Ash. He obviously must be home; I thought to myself. His coat was on the peg in front of the door. I guess he was probably in his room. I approached the door at the end of the hall, a little bit nervous. I had never really been into his room, except for a slight glimpse when Shiloh was showing me around the apartment on my first day. Ash was discreet about his room too. The door was always closed or locked and he didn't allow many guests.

Ash is too nice to fuss about this; I told myself. It was my very first story! He would let me in. He had to.

I knocked on the door twice, but stopped once I heard music. It sounded . . . sad. Slow, sad acoustic guitar music. I pressed my ear to the wooden door, wanting to hear more of the beautiful, sad music. Suddenly the music stopped. And before I knew it, the door was jerked open. I jumped back a little, startled. But it was Ash's eyes that made me even more surprised. They were . . . red. Was he crying? But what was he crying about?

"Uh, May?" he sniffed slightly and before long, a casual smile graced his face. He closed the door to his room gently. "Sorry. Seems like I caught some sniffles."

I moistened my lips, not really knowing what to say exactly. Ash was clearly lying, I knew that much. I could tell the difference between crying and a cold. But why was he crying? And that sad, beautiful music . . .

"Anyway." Ash covered everything up with that gorgeous smile of his again. "What's that?"

He was motioning to my manuscript that I held limply in my hand. I had almost forgotten about it after hearing the music and seeing Ash's red eyes. I shook out of my trance-like condition. After all, I came to show him my writing. And besides that, it really was too early for me to be asking about his life story. So I smiled and handed the paper over to him. "It's my first story. A short story, of course. I have bigger plans but a short story is a nice way to kick off my writing career, don't you think?"

Ash took my precious document and looked over the first page. His brow arched in an impressive look. "Wow. I think I have to sit down and read this carefully." He hand-motioned to the closed door behind him. "You wanna come in?"

"Um, sure."

He did let me in after all and that was nice of them; I found myself thinking as I followed Ash into his room. It surprised me though, as I walked in. It was definitely not what I was expecting. Well actually, I really wasn't expecting anything much. But the way that his room was decorated certainly surprised me.

The walls were painted tan and there were navy blue drapes hanging over the only window. Some posters of a band were up on the wall, an acoustic guitar was on the unmade bed. On the little dressing table, there were some photo frames with pictures, a laptop and some other stuff like hair gel. In some quirky way, it kind of did represent who Ash was. Just like the way Micah's hotel-like room represented the cold-hearted jerk he was.

"Wow. Your room is great." I smiled at Ash, who smiled back. He sat on his bed and shrugged his shoulders in a modest way.

"Not really. Shiloh has been telling me for _centuries_ to clean out the junk under here." Ash pointed to under his bed. "You wouldn't want to see it." I smiled at him and headed over to his desk as he started to read my manuscript. I looked at the pictures that were perfectly aligned in time-line format.

The first one was Ash, probably about four years old. He was in a sandbox, his pudgy hands holding up a bright orange pail. A toothy grin was on his face. I couldn't help but smile at the picture. He looked adorable.

Moving on from the baby picture, the second one was probably Ash when he was a teenager. He was surrounded with a group of people—presumably his friends from high school. There were two girls and two boys. The girls were both pretty, one had bright orange hair and the other had blue hair. The two boys both had brown hair and looked pretty similar. Ash was in the middle of the group, smiling widely.

The third picture was Ash in a black graduating gown, holding up a transcript with a huge grin. An older woman with dark brown hair tied in a ponytail was beside him, smiling. It was probably his mother, I decided to myself. They shared the same eyes.

The last picture . . . the last picture was what caught my eyes the most. It was recent, I could tell. It was obviously Christmas time, and the big Christmas tree that was up every year in front of the Petalburg Skate Rink was in the background. But that wasn't what made my eyes widen and my heart to sink.

Ash and Shiloh. Holding hands. Kissing.

_What. The. Hell?_

_

* * *

_

_-Suzie x_


End file.
